I'm seeing a huge trend where 'romantasy' dragons are basically supernatural billionaires with scales. All the physical descriptors are there—iridescent hide, massive wingspan, claws that could shred steel—but the real focus is on how that power is contained and then softened by the romantic lead. The descriptions spend as much time on the restrained grace in a humanoid form, the low rumble of a voice that feels like treasure vibrating, as they do on the actual beast.
Take Sarah J. Maas's Rhysand, for example. He's not a dragon, but that Night Court aesthetic? Pure dragon-adjacent energy: velvet darkness and stars caught in wings. The descriptions in books like 'Fourth Wing' or 'A Heart of Blood and Ashes' lean into that lethal beauty being something the heroine alone is allowed to touch without being burned. It’s less about biological accuracy and more about crafting a visual and tactile shorthand for ancient, dangerous, yet ultimately protectable power.
That said, sometimes I miss the sheer alien wonder of older fantasy dragons, where the beauty was in their terrifying, non-human majesty. The romanticized version can feel a bit like decorating a Viking with pretty scales.